


Just a Little Bit's Enough

by kinksock22



Series: Dom Dean/sub Sam [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), BDSM Scene, Barebacking, Biting, Blindfolds, Bondage, Bottom Sam, Collars, Coming Untouched, Dom Dean, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Praise Kink, Sex Toys, Spanking, Sub Sam, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 05:10:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12976701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinksock22/pseuds/kinksock22
Summary: Sam and Dean spend some quality time at the cabin in Whitefish.





	Just a Little Bit's Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it took so long to update this. Hope that those who were waiting enjoy.

They take it slow and it ends up taking a week to get back to the cabin in Whitefish. Sam still feels calm and relaxed after their last scene, not a hint of Lucifer or the noise in his head. Dean pulls off the highway every night, checks them into a motel and fucks him into the mattress. He’s sated, muscles sore in the best way, well-used and well-fucked. 

He smiles and stretches lazily, arching his back. Dean doesn’t move next to him but that doesn’t surprise Sam. They rolled in late the night before – more like early morning – and Dean pulled him right into the bedroom, not even bothering to grab their shit out of the car, got him on his hands and knees, fucked him hard and fast, then they both collapsed, asleep within moments. 

Sam rolls onto his side, the pleasant ache in his ass, his entire body, making his cock twitch and he reaches out, lays his hand flat on Dean’s chest, over his tattoo, feels the steady beat of his brother’s heart beneath his palm. There’s a slow thrum of arousal heating his blood – a constant thing now that he and Dean have started sleeping together, even bigger and more consuming than when he was a teenager and so in love with Dean that it hurt, that he couldn’t breathe around it – but he can ignore it for the moment, content to just lie still and watch his brother sleep.

Dean looks younger when he’s asleep, the lines around his eyes and mouth smooth, the constant weight he carries eased. Sam traces his eyes over Dean’s face, the smattering of freckles across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, the smudge of long, dark eyelashes resting against his cheeks, his plush lips parted slightly, the strength of his jaw, down the long line of his neck, the mark Sam bit into the thin skin covering his pulse the day before. He’s so fucking beautiful that it almost aches to look at him, leaves Sam breathless, his heart pounding too hard against his ribs.

There are times – like that moment – that Sam still can’t believe that Dean is actually _his_. It was all he wanted as a teenager, following him to Stanford and even into his relationship with Jess, hadn’t waned a bit in the nearly four years they were apart, followed him when they started hunting together again and down into the Cage. Honestly, Sam can’t really remember a time when he _hasn’t_ wanted Dean, loved him more than he should. Even when he was too young to understand any of it. It isn’t just the sex, despite how much Sam wanted that too. He’s always wanted _all_ of Dean. He knows, knew even as a child, that he got the majority of his brother, but that wasn’t enough for Sam. He’s greedy, always has been, and he knows it, always wanted the few parts that Dean kept for himself or gave away to others as well.

Before Sam realizes it, he’s leaning forward, lips brushing over the arc of Dean’s cheekbone, trailing down the stubbled curve of his jaw, nuzzling against his throat, mouthing wetly at the mark already there. Dean groans and turns a little into Sam, slides an arm around Sam’s waist, still mostly asleep. 

Sam pulls back enough to look at Dean again, continues studying Dean’s face, like he doesn’t have those features memorized already, doesn’t know Dean as well – or even better than – he knows himself. His cock twitches again, hard and leaking against his abs, arousal like a forest fire now burning through his veins.

He _wants_. 

Sam doesn’t usually reach out and take. He’s not the one who usually starts things between them. He waits for Dean to do it. A part of him is still afraid that Dean is doing this just for Sam, that he’s once again sacrificing everything, himself included, for Sam. Seeing Dean reach for him, the heat in his brother’s eyes and the possessiveness of his touch makes Sam feel a little better about taking whatever Dean will give him, makes him think it might be possible that Dean needs and wants him even a fraction of the way Sam needs and wants Dean. 

Sam scoots closer, tangles his legs with Dean’s, tries to ignore the heat singing through his veins, the pounding of his heart, the pulsing thrum of arousal. He needs to let Dean rest, knows that his brother needs it. He closes his eyes and settles his head on the pillow, face close enough to Dean’s that their noses almost touch.

He gasps, eyes snapping open again a few seconds later when soft, dry lips brush against his. Dean’s staring back at him, face still soft with sleep, eyes a little hazy but dark. Dean wiggles closer, his cock pressing against Sam’s thigh, half-hard and twitching, and Dean rolls his hips, eyes locked on Sam’s.

“Time s’it?” Dean eventually asks, voice a soft, low rumble that drips down Sam’s spine like warm honey.

“Early,” Sam mutters. “Go back to sleep. Sorry I woke you.”

“You didn’t,” Dean murmurs. Sam knows he’s lying. Dean loves to sleep but he’s always been hard-wired to Sam and if Sam’s up, Dean usually follows suit not long after. 

Dean’s arm tightens around Sam’s waist, his hand sliding down over the curve of Sam’s ass and Sam can’t stop himself from arching back into the touch, lips parting around a low, breathy moan. Dean smirks and pulls Sam completely against him, Sam’s hard, leaking cock trapped between their stomachs. The smirk drops away quickly though and Dean holds him close, searching Sam’s eyes. Sam knows what he’s looking for, barely resists the urge to draw back and hide from that too-knowing gaze. He’s feeling good still, as stable as he gets these days, but after how bad it was last time, Dean isn’t taking chances. It can’t last, Sam knows this, the real world will come crashing back down sooner or later and they’ll get caught up in something and Dean won’t be able to take care of him. Sam doesn’t blame Dean, _can’t_ , he knows that hunting and saving people come first, but it still hurts deep down in places he doesn’t like to look at too closely, those selfish, dark parts of himself that he prays Dean never sees.

~~**~~

Dean felt Sam’s eyes on him, the slight weight of his hand against Dean’s chest, the soft brush of his lips before he actually opened his eyes. He’d waited for Sam to wake him, could almost feel Sam’s arousal like a physical thing. Was confused when Sam just scooted closer and tangled their legs together and settled back down.

Now, Dean searches Sam’s eyes for any sign of the hallucinations or the voices, wondering if perhaps maybe that’s what had him so hesitant, why he looked so spooked when Dean finally opened his eyes. It won’t do any good to ask, Sam mostly tells him the truth but he also tries hard to hide it when he thinks he needs to for some stupid reason or another. But Sam’s eyes are truly the window to his brother’s soul. He can lie with the best of them, better than Dean at times, but those emotion-filled, ever-changing depths always give him away.

But Sam looks okay, at least for the moment. Dean knows that can change at any time. He hasn’t been quite able to totally put together the pattern yet of when things will get bad, can’t quite figure out what all sets him off. One minute he’ll be fine and the next he’s flinching at thin air and mumbling at shadows. But their last scene and the week of sex every night seems to have kept him calm this long and for that Dean’s grateful. 

Still, he files away Sam’s odd behavior, plans to bring it up another time, soon.

Right now though, Sam’s already hard and leaking against his stomach and Dean momentarily thinks about flipping him over onto his stomach and sinking right into him, sure that Sam’s still wet and open from just a few hours ago, thinks about rolling onto his back and pulling Sam into his lap, right down onto his cock, but they’re finally back at the cabin, which is warded against _everything_ , and there’s an itch under Dean’s skin, the sudden, all-encompassing need to break Sam down, even more than he did a week ago, take him apart and piece him back together.

Dean brushes a kiss to Sam’s lips and carefully untangles their limbs. Sam’s eyes are big and pleading, staring up at Dean when he forces himself to climb out of the bed, the most heartbreaking, devastated look in those hazel depths. 

“Be right back, baby boy,” Dean murmurs, leaning down to kiss Sam again, running his hand through his hair. “Stay right here.” He puts just enough steel in it to be a command and Sam shivers, blinks slowly and it’s almost like he can _see_ the moment Sam slips into the mindset, when he becomes _Dean’s_. His perfect, sweet sub.

He grabs his jeans off the floor and slips them on, zipper pulled up but button left open, not bothering with his underwear; he’s not going to be dressed long enough for it to matter. Sam’s gaze is a heavy weight on him until he leaves the room.

Dean steps outside barefoot into the early morning chill, shivering slightly. Sam’s like a furnace, bleeding warmth into Dean’s entire body and the air around him feels almost frigid in comparison. Moving quickly – and not just because of the cold – he pops the trunk of the car and grabs the bag from the sex shop he’d visited a week ago, peaking inside to make sure that everything’s there. With a smirk to himself he heads back in, shivering again in the relative warmth of the inside of the cabin.

Just as he knew he would be, Sam’s right where he left him. His brother glances quickly to the bag in Dean’s hands then snaps his eyes back up to Dean’s, a pretty pink blush creeping across his cheeks. For the moment, he leaves his jeans on, drops the bag on the end of the bed. He reaches inside and pulls out the blindfold, a set of silk scarves and Sam’s collar. 

Sitting down next to Sam, Dean reaches out and cards his fingers through Sam’s hair, smiling softly when Sam’s eyes flutter closed and he leans into the touch, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “Look at me, Sammy,” Dean murmurs after a few moments. Sam’s eyes open automatically, locking on his. He holds the collar up, his cock hardening even more when Sam’s eyes darken and he tips his chin up, arching the long, beautiful line of his neck.

He wraps the buttery-soft, black leather around that tempting expanse of tan, sweat-slick skin, cock pulsing as he fastens it. He still can’t get over how fucking good it looks on Sam, how much the sight affects him. Sam shudders slightly and melts into the mattress, loose-limbed and pliant in a way that Sam’s never been before, even the other times they’ve done this. He wishes that he’d thought of getting the collar long before now. 

Dean tucks two fingers beneath the edge and tugs just slightly. Sam lets out a breathy little moan, his whole body already trembling a little. He grabs the blindfold next and pushes Sam’s hair out of his face, smiling reassuringly when Sam looks up at him, a little bit of worry creeping into his eyes. “Same as last time, little brother. I won’t leave you,” Dean promises. 

Sam nods and closes his eyes, lifting his head enough for Dean to slip the blindfold on. He cups Sam’s cheek, rubs his thumb over his brother’s bottom lip. “Good boy,” he praises, smirking when Sam shivers, back arching just slightly off the mattress.

Dean grabs one of the scarves, dragging it up Sam's chest, his brother flinching slightly. Sam's brow is furrowed, lips pulled down slightly, and Dean can tell he's trying to figure out what's coming next. Dean doesn't want him thinking too hard, or even thinking at all, actually, so he leans down, brushes a kiss to the high arc of Sam's cheekbone. “Arms up, Sammy,” he commands softly.

Sam automatically lifts his arms, once again relaxing back into the mattress, his face smoothing out. Dean wraps the scarf around both wrists, tying it tight enough to feel but not enough to hurt. He takes the second scarf and loops it between Sam's hands then ties it to the headboard. Sam tugs slightly, testing his bonds, muscles tensing and rippling beautifully under tanned, already sweat-slick skin. Dean pets one hand over his hair again, smiling softly when Sam leans a bit into the touch.

~~**~~

Sam hates the blindfold. Having his sight taken from him leaves him off-center, feeling too weak and too vulnerable. Not to mention how much he hates not being able to see Dean, even though he can hear him, can feel him.

He tilts his chin up just slightly, feels the weight of his collar, the slight bite as it presses against his Adam’s apple. It helps a bit, calming the panic that was starting to rise because of the blindfold. Surprisingly, the scarves tying him to the headboard help as well, despite the fact that he kind of hates that he won't be able to touch Dean.

He doesn’t know what Dean has planned and it’s at once torturous and thrilling. But he doesn’t understand why Dean is doing this and that kind of sets him on edge. He feels fine, no voices, no hallucinations, no Lucifer. Sam can’t help but wonder what his brother saw in his eyes to think that he needs this. But he trusts Dean – always has, always will – and if Dean thinks he needs this then he must and he's sure as hell not going to question his brother. 

Sam feels the mattress shift slightly then feels the cool, coarse denim of his brother's jeans brushing against his thigh, the warmth of Dean's hand as it slides down his side, palm curving perfectly over his hip bone. His cock twitches, fresh pre-come leaking from the tip onto his stomach, just that slight touch enough to drive him a little crazy. His back arches, lips parting, a low moan rumbling in his chest. “Dean,” he breathes, momentarily forgetting about his bonds and trying to tug his arms down, wanting to touch his brother. He groans softly, nose wrinkling when he can't move, remembering the silk scarves.

“Easy, baby boy,” Dean murmurs, lips brushing against Sam's briefly before pulling away. Sam inhales deeply, exhales slowly, and forces himself to relax. “That's my boy,” Dean adds softly and Sam can hear the smile in his tone, the fondness. His cheeks heat even more for some reason.

Dean's fingers slide over his cheeks, down his jaw, brushing briefly over his collar. Sam closes his eyes even though he can't see anything behind the blindfold anyway and focuses his attention solely on his brother's touch, the warmth of Dean's body just barely brushing against his own. The hand on his hip slides down and over, rubbing the inside of his thigh. Sam automatically spreads his legs open more, jerking his hips up, silently begging Dean to curl those thick, strong fingers around his cock. Dean chuckles softly, fondly, and drags his hand up, briefly palming his balls, fingers rubbing the sensitive skin behind his sac. Sam moans again, squirming slightly, hips tilting down, chasing the fleeting touch.

“Settle,” Dean commands, soft but firm.

Sam huffs out a breath and bites down on his bottom lip. Dean brushes a kiss to his hip bone in silent praise then the mattress shifts again as he moves. Sam can't stop the slight panic that hits him when he feels Dean move away from him, both hands falling away from his body.

“Dean?” he asks quietly, trying to hide the note of panic in his tone.

“Right here, Sammy,” Dean assures him softly. “Not leavin' you, remember?”

Sam tilts his head to the side, listening to the sound of his brother moving around the room, the soft rustle of fabric, his brow furrowing when he tries to figure out what exactly Dean's doing. The bed dips and Sam gasps when he feels warm, bare skin sliding against the inside of his thighs, Dean's hands curling around his hips. He tugs again at his bonds, even though he knows it's useless, when he feels warm breath against his cock followed quickly by the wet slide of Dean's tongue running up the underside, swirling around the head, dipping into the slit before swallowing him down, tip hitting the back of Dean's throat.

“Dean,” Sam moans, back arching, fingers curling into useless fists, his whole body already trembling. Dean drops one hand down, tugging gently but firmly at Sam's balls before sliding back further, just the tips of two fingers rubbing around his rim, just teasing pressure. Sam can't stop the whine of frustration from escaping his lips, tilting his hips down to try to get more. “Please,” Sam whispers. “Need more, please, Dean?”

Dean slowly pulls his head back, sucking hard, tongue rubbing along the vein, flicking over the sensitive bundle of nerves below the ridge. Sam arches his back when he feels the warmth of his brother's chest brushing against his own. He's already on edge, entire body feeling like one big exposed nerve. “Patience, little brother,” Dean whispers against his ear, teeth scraping over the lobe. “We're just getting started.”

Sam huffs softly and tilts his head to the side, silently begging for more. Dean's lips and teeth trail down his neck, biting and sucking at his thundering pulse, fingers still just teasing around his entrance.

~~**~~

Dean can feel the trembles running through Sam's whole body, the heavy, hot press of his leaking cock against his stomach. He can tell that Sam's already on edge, that it wouldn't take much to get him off at this point, but Dean really wants to take his time, wants to drive him absolutely _crazy_ , push him to the edge and bring him back again and again. 

Sam whimpers and tugs uselessly at his bound wrists. “Stop that,” Dean commands. “You're gonna hurt yourself.”

“Wanna touch you,” Sam whispers. “Please, Dean?”

“No,” Dean replies quietly. He hates telling Sam no, honestly isn't very good at it, but he's got a plan and having Sam bound and at his mercy is a huge part of it. Sam whines but settles down. “That's my good boy,” Dean praises, dipping down to press a soft, chaste kiss to Sam's lips, pulling away before his brother can try to deepen it.

Dean kisses his way back down Sam's chest, pausing to suck and bite at his nipples until they're pulled tight, then moves down his stomach, tongue tracing the muscles of his abs. He scrapes his teeth over the sharp cut of Sam's hip bone, sucking a bruise into the taut skin. Sliding down further, he licks over the heavy swell of Sam's balls, teasing at the seam before sucking first one, then the other, into his mouth. Sam moans and writhes beneath him, legs spreading wider, hips jerking up off the mattress. Dean holds him down with one hand and slides his tongue down his perineum, circles around just the edge of his rim. 

He presses just the tips of his fingers into Sam, groaning softly in the back of his throat. “Still a little open and wet, Sammy,” Dean murmurs, licking around his fingers, another groan rumbling in his chest. “Fuck, taste so good, baby.”

“Dean,” Sam breathes, hips trembling, back arching. “Please...”

Dean pulls his fingers away and licks around Sam's hole, pressing just the tip inside. He can taste the remnants of his own release from earlier and the musky taste of his brother and pushes in deeper, dropping both hands, sliding beneath Sam's ass and pulling his cheeks open, giving him more room. Sam's already nearly incoherent, moaning and whimpering, pushing back against Dean's tongue and lips. Dean shifts his hold and slips one finger in next to his tongue, unerringly finding Sam's prostate. Sam's cock twitches against his stomach, fresh pulse of pre-come oozing from the slit.

He loses track of how long he spends licking and sucking at Sam's rim, one finger thrusting into him, teasing over his sweet spot. He can feel Sam's thighs trembling, his balls pulling tight up against his body. “Dean,” Sam mewls, muscles along his chest and arms rippling as he once again pulls at the scarves.

Dean pulls away reluctantly – he loves eating Sam out as much as his brother loves when he does it – and clamps one hand around the base of Sam's cock, squeezing gently but firmly, choking back his release. Sam whines, his face and chest flushed and sweat-slick, wisps of sweat-damp hair clinging to his neck and cheeks.

Once he relaxes against the mattress, Dean lets go and leans over Sam, brushing a kiss to his lips. “Not yet, Sam,” Dean murmurs against his lips. “Not even close to done with you yet. Not gonna let you come 'til I say so.”

Sam whines in frustration and lifts his head, chasing after Dean's lips. Dean smiles and dips down, slides their lips together again, instantly sweeping his tongue into Sam's mouth. Sam moans into the kiss, thighs tightening around Dean's hips, thrusting up against him, dragging his cock against Dean's stomach. Dean tsks in the back of his throat and pulls away, fisting one hand into Sam's hair. “None of that,” he scolds quietly.

Sam sighs and nods, tilts his chin up, silently begging for another kiss. Dean smirks and shakes his head fondly, leaning down to give him one more quick, dirty kiss before pulling away. He settles back onto his heels between Sam's legs and reaches for the bag, pulling out a tube of lube and the plug he'd used last time. He slicks up the cool plastic and teases the tip around Sam's hole before carefully pushing it forward, not stopping until it's buried in Sam completely. Dean grabs Sam's hips, thumbs rubbing over the bones. “Need you to flip over for me, baby boy,” Dean instructs softly.

Sam nods and Dean helps him turn over, onto his stomach. Every movement makes Sam gasp as the plug shifts inside him, his cock leaking and hardening even more. Sam moans harshly, wiggles his hips, gasping when that just makes the plug move more. Dean presses a hand to the small of his back and leans over, kisses the back of his shoulder. “Can you get on your knees?” Sam nods and shifts around, getting his knees under him, chest pressing against the bed, arms stretched out in front of him. Dean bites down on his bottom lip, watching the flex of muscle along his brother's back and shoulders. Fuck but Sam looks good like this. “That's it, Sammy,” he murmurs.

He slides one hand down Sam's back, over the curve of his ass, the touch feather-light. Sam keens and arches his back, pushing back against Dean's hand as much as he can. Dean draws his hand away then brings it back down, the sting of the slap making his hand tingle slightly. Sam barely bites back a choked moan, head dropping down between his shoulders. Dean repeats the smack on the other side, fingers fluttering over the pink mark left behind. “Wanna hear you,” Dean rasps. “Don't hold back, little brother.”

~~**~~

Sam squeezes his eyes closed tight behind his blindfold, fingers curling into fists around the scarf leading to the headboard, his whole body trembling. Dean brings his hand down again, a little harder, and Sam can't bite back the strangled moan that tears from his throat. He hears Dean hum in approval over the pounding beat of his own heart in his ears. He tilts his hips back, slides his legs apart even more. Dean keeps going, alternating sides in a varying rhythm, not giving Sam a chance to get used to it or to anticipate the next hit. His cock is leaking steadily, so hard, and his balls _throb_ with the need to come.

“Dean,” he mewls, shifting his shoulders, tugging against his bonds. The slight bite of pain from the silk digging into his wrists and the exertion of his muscles just makes everything that much better, the plug shifting inside him with every strike of his brother's hand pushing him closer and closer to the edge. He knows damn-well he's not allowed to come until Dean tells him he can but he honestly doesn't realistically know how much longer he can hold out.

Dean's fingers curl around his hips, holding him still, and he gasps when he feels the soft, wet swipe of his brother's tongue over his spanked-warm ass. The scrape of teeth that follow makes him cry out, his cock twitching almost painfully. 

Dean lets go of one hip, fingers brushing around his rim, presses against the base of the plug, pushing it hard against his sweet spot. “Dean,” Sam repeats, warning and plea.

A nearly violent shiver works down his spine as Dean kisses his way up his back, bites down on the back of his neck. “Shh, easy,” Dean coos against his ear, teeth scraping over the lobe. “You're okay. Doin' so good for me, Sammy.”

“Need to come,” Sam blurts out. “Please, Dean.”

“Not yet, baby boy,” Dean whispers, lips still pressed against Sam's ear. Sam inhales deeply and tilts his head back to rest on Dean's strong, broad shoulder. Dean kisses the side of his face, his neck, one hand smoothing up and down his side. “You good?” Dean asks softly after a few long moments.

“Yeah,” Sam breathes, turns his head toward the sound of his brother's voice, sighing contently when Dean brushes a kiss to his lips. 

“Gonna flip you back over,” Dean murmurs.

Sam nods and lets his brother turn him over, gasping and arching his back, hips jerking up when his blood-warm ass hits the sheets. He squirms, not sure whether to pull away from the almost too much sensation or push down into the raw sting. The pain makes his cock twitch either way, leaves him panting harshly. 

Dean slides his hands up the insides of Sam's thighs, pushing his legs open. He teases his fingers around his rim, pulling the plug out just barely then pushing it back in. Sam moans, tries to thrust back against the toy but Dean pulls it out completely, leaving him open and empty. Sam can't bite back a whine, twisting his hips uselessly.

Dean chuckles softly and presses a kiss to his trembling stomach. “It's okay. Gonna take care'a you,” he promises softly. 

Sam feels the mattress shift as Dean moves, hears the click of the bottle of lube, but instead of his brother's cock like he's expecting, he feels something else pressing against his rim, smooth and plastic like the plug but a little thicker, a little longer. He gasps in surprise when the toy starts vibrating. Dean has it angled to hit his prostate perfectly and it's too much but not enough, the vibrations making him tremble even more.

~~**~~

Dean bites down on his bottom lip, unable to tear his eyes away from his brother's long, beautiful body all stretched out, sweat-slick skin glistening in the late morning light, muscles flexing as he writhes and squirms. He palms his own cock when Sam's stiff length twitches, fresh pre-come oozing from the tip, as he continues to fuck the vibrator in and out, the rhythm slow and steady, not enough to make Sam come but enough to keep him firmly on edge.

Moving carefully, he swings one leg over his brother's body, knees on the mattress on either side of his shoulders. He reaches down and grabs his own cock, leaning forward enough to rub the tip across Sam's lips. Sam jerks slightly in surprise but recovers quickly, his lips falling open, a low moan rumbling in his chest when Dean feeds just the tip into his mouth.

He leans over more, one arm snaking beneath Sam's leg, gripping the end of the toy and slowly pulling it out only to push it right back in, a little harder, a little faster. Sam mewls around his cock, tongue flicking over the tip, digging into the slit. Using his free hand, Dean grabs the base of Sam's cock and slides his lips over the angry-red head, moaning at the taste of his brother's pre-come.

Sam stops moving for a few long moments, his cock twitching eagerly on Dean's tongue then a low, almost-pained moan tears from Sam's throat – the vibration around Dean's cock making it jerk, Dean's eyes rolling back into his head – and he picks up the pace again, lifting his head off the pillows, sucking Dean down _hard_. 

It takes a bit of coordination to keep sucking Sam and working the toy into him while Sam is doing his best to suck Dean's brains out of his dick. It's the most exquisite torture, the heat and pleasure of Sam's mouth, the taste and feeling of his brother against his tongue, and for a moment Dean has to wonder who he's teasing more, himself or Sam.

Sam pulls away from him with a gasp, warm, moist breath panting against Dean's spit-slick cock making him shudder. “Dean,” Sam whispers. “C-close... I can't... Gonna...”

Dean lets Sam's cock slide free from his mouth and squeezes the base, once more choking back Sam's orgasm. His brother whines pitifully, hips twisting. Keeping his hold on Sam's cock he turns around and settles on the mattress at Sam's side. Once Sam settles down, Dean lets go of him and carefully removes the toy, kissing Sam slow and deep when he whines again. He reaches up and pushes the sweat-damp hair off Sam's forehead, brushes a kiss to his temple. Sam turns toward him, lips bitten red and raw, parting slightly, brushes over his curve of Dean's jaw.

“Please?” Sam whispers, soft and breathy. “Please, Dean?”

Dean reaches up and pulls the blindfold off Sam, smiling softly when lust-blown, glassy hazel eyes finally settle on him after Sam blinks owlishly for a few seconds. He can see that his brother is close to his limit, maybe even a little past it. He cards one hand through Sam's hair, kisses his forehead, the tip of his nose, the side of his lips. 

Pushing himself up, Dean kneels next to Sam. “Gonna undo these,” Dean murmurs as he reaches for the scarves. Sam's staring up at him, blinking slowly, his body completely still for the first time since Dean slipped his collar on, the only movement the slight rise and fall of his chest. He's completely pliant, letting Dean pull his arms down and rub gently over his shoulders and wrists. He's never seen Sam like this, not even the first time, and he can't help but worry that he might have pushed him too far. 

“You okay?” he asks softly, dipping down to brush a kiss to Sam's lips. Sam licks his lips once Dean pulls back and nods. “Sam,” Dean sighs, frowning slightly. His brother damn-well knows that toughing it out, that not safewording if he needs to is one of the biggest rules between them.

“'m okay,” Sam rasps, fingers twitching against Dean's knee. “Don't stop?” he whispers, barely a sound.

Dean nods and leans down for another slow, deep kiss. He settles back against the headboard once he pulls away, fingers carding through Sam's hair. “C'mere, baby,” he murmurs. 

Sam rolls onto his side and essentially crawls into Dean's lap, Dean's hands on his hips helping to steady him. Sam sighs softly and leans heavily against Dean's chest, face buried in his neck. Dean wraps his arms around his brother's trembling body, one hand sliding down over the curve of his ass. “Want you to ride me, Sammy,” he murmurs.

Sam moans softly, open mouth dragging over Dean's thundering pulse. Dean reaches down and grabs the base of his own cock, holding himself steady as Sam tilts his hips back, both of them groaning when just the head of Dean's cock breaches the still-tight furl of muscle.

Sam inhales deeply and sits up, hands braced on Dean's chest, bottom lip trapped between his teeth, eyes closed as he takes Dean in all the way, not stopping until Dean is buried to the hilt. Sam's head is hanging down, hair hiding his face, his chest heaving. Dean reaches up and cups Sam's jaw, tilting his head up. “Look at me, baby,” he commands quietly.

Sam blinks his eyes open slowly, hazy hazel eyes locking on Dean's. Sam's lips part and he squirms a little, the heat of his spanked-red ass against Dean's thighs making Dean's cock twitch inside the tight, wet heat of his brother's body. Sam moans, fingers digging into Dean's chest. “Dean,” he whimpers.

“Go on, Sammy,” Dean replies softly.

Sam doesn't need to be told twice. He rolls his hips, falling into a quick, dirty rhythm. Dean knows there's no way either of them will last like this, both too worked up, Dean managing to push himself to his own limits while pushing Sam.

“Dean,” Sam moans, blunt fingernails dragging down Dean's chest. “Can't... Please? N-need...”

Dean can admit that there's something thrilling about being able to reduce his genius, smart-ass little brother to a pile of incoherent, stammering goo. “Come, little brother,” Dean commands.

Sam tosses his head back, hips losing all rhythm, crying out loud and hoarse, untouched cock jerking and twitching. Dean's hands slide down over the curve of his ass, fingers digging into the warm flesh, jerking his own hips up, helping Sam work through his orgasm even as he chases his own. It doesn't take long for Dean to come as well, groaning and pulling Sam against his chest, thrusting up into him hard and erratic.

Once the shivery aftershocks have stopped, Dean gently tips Sam onto the mattress, smiling softly when his brother automatically scoots up against his side, head resting on Dean's shoulder. Sam's always quiet after a scene, content to bask in the orgasmic afterglow and snuggle, his preferred form of aftercare. So it's surprising when Sam tilts his head up enough to look at Dean, brow furrowed slightly. 

“What was that for?” Sam asks softly.

“What'd'ya mean?” Dean frowns.

“I didn't...” Sam huffs, nose wrinkling adorably. “I wasn't hearing or seeing anything. I didn't... I didn't need it.”

Dean dips his head and presses a kiss to Sam's lips. “I know,” he murmurs. “Just... We're as safe as we're ever gonna be here and I just...” Dean sighs, tightens his arms around Sam. “I just wanted to, I guess.” He searches Sam's eyes, frown deepening. “Was it... I mean, if you didn't want to, you should've stopped me.”

Sam rolls his eyes but there's a smile curling up his lips. “Didn't say I didn't want to,” he mutters. “Just... Confused, I guess, as to why.” He wiggles impossibly closer, brushes a kiss to the side of Dean's lips. “I like it,” Sam whispers.

Dean chuckles softly and slides one hand into Sam's hair, tucking Sam's head under his jaw, a feeling of peace and contentment filling his entire body. Sam melts against his side and sighs happily. Dean just hopes this feeling can last.


End file.
